


Object of her Affection

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is she over-reacting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object of her Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Business Associates #2 under the pen name Llyr Chaves.

_"Your privilege, Doctor."_

 

          Suzanne stormed into the Cottage living room.  "Norton plays computer games, Harrison stands on his head, and you… you sit and stare at that fire for hours!"  She paced the length of the room, hands on hips, then swung around again to face the object of her ire.  "Am I the _only_ person in this house who actually spends time _working?_ " she demanded.

          "You're overreacting, Doctor," Ironhorse answered calmly.

          Her eyes narrowed and she felt the familiar tingle between her legs.  She could _not_ find him attractive.  Would not!

          But he looked so damned inviting, sitting on the floor by the fire, just as he'd done every evening since they had come to the Cottage.  The book he'd been reading rested lightly in his lap, and her imagination stripped it and the black jeans away, revealing—

          "Am I?" she demanded to stop the thoughts, adding a silent _crazy?_   _He's a soldier.  A right-winged, closed-minded… gorgeous, bronze man.  Aaah!_

          The black eyebrows rose slightly and his head cocked slightly to one side.  Even her anger hadn't broken through the shell of calm he seemed to put on when he sat there.  The shadows from the fire played across his face and hair, the teasing her.  She wanted to walk over, push him down, tear his clothes off and…

          He looked away, staring impassively into the flames, not meeting her eyes.  "The Cottage and grounds are secure.  I checked personally not half an hour ago.  I'll be checking the perimeter again in another ten minutes with Mr. Kensington."  He made it sound like a report.  "As to Mr. Drake's computer games, they're attack scenarios which he created at my request.  They might provide us with potential defense against any attacks the aliens mount.  As for Dr. Blackwood…"  He shrugged, turning his head slightly back in her direction.  "He claims it helps him to think," he finished, his voice clearly indicating what he thought of the statement.

          She felt the anger slip away.  God she wanted him.  Wanted to feel his hands on her – touching, teasing, fondling her breasts, slipping inside her, giving her pleasure—

          _Stop, stop, stop!_ she commanded herself.  _You're over the edge, McCullough,_ way _over the edge._

          It was hard to stay angry when faced with irrefutable facts _and_ agreement with her opinion of Harrison Blackwood's working habits.

          "I'm sorry, Colonel," she replied, taking hold of her temper and moving a little closer to the fire.  "I shouldn't have shouted at you."

          The edge of his mouth almost turned up in a smile, or perhaps it was just the play of fire light across his face.  "Your privilege, Doctor."  His voice gave away nothing.

          What would he do if she sat down there next to him?  _Check his watch and excuse himself to go make that perimeter check_ , she reasoned.

          It wasn't like she was looking for a lifetime commitment.  She didn't want another husband, not after Cash.  She could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much, but there was just something about the way he moved, the way he looked—

          "Anything else, Doctor?"

          Suzanne had the sense to recognize dismissal.  "No.  I'll be… getting back to the lab, Colonel.  Goodnight."

          "Goodnight, Doctor."

          Her last glimpse of him as she turned away was of a dark silhouette against the yellow blaze of the fire, head bent to return to his book.  If her outburst had disturbed him, he certainly didn't show it.

          _One of these days, Paul Ironhorse.  One of these days, you're mine._

The End _  
_


End file.
